by Morgan Utley
The Second Chance
Morgan Utley
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Author Biography
Copyright (C) 2021 Morgan Utley
Layout design and Copyright (C) 2021 by Next Chapter
Published 2021 by Liaison – A Next Chapter Imprint
Edited by Darci Heikkinen
Cover art by Morgan Utley
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.
Acknowledgments
Writing a book is a lot harder than it looks. I’ve dreamed of writing a book since I was sixteen years old, and I never thought I would finish one. However, through persistence and lots of revisions, ten years later I finally completed my first novel. Due to this accomplishment, I have a lot of people to be thankful for.
First off, I have to thank my wonderful husband, John. He constantly encourages me, listens to my endless thoughts and ideas, and helps with the kids, so I can have some peaceful writing time. His level of support is something I could never repay, and I am eternally grateful that I have him by my side. He truly is the love of my life.
To my teacher Lisa Lowell, who was always willing to lend an ear, offer advice, or point me in the right direction. If it weren’t for her, I never would have finished this book or found Next Chapter, so thank you so much.
To my family for encouraging me and being my lifelong friends. To my wonderful parents, Jeff and Susie, who have loved and supported me through my many ups and downs. They have been the best cheerleaders anyone could ask for and have loved me no matter what. To my in-laws, Wendy and Chad, who welcomed me into their family and love me as if I was one of their own.
Finally, to all those who played a part in helping me finish this book: Mary Clark, Kirstin Glenn, Hailey Harris, Jenna Lumb, Rachel McClellan, Lynn McFarland, Vivian Rogers, Sarah Villarreal, Kylee Wilcox, and Douhet Wilcox. Thank you for everything you have done.
For my husband John, who gave me my own second chance. I love you, sweetheart.
Chapter 1
“Hello, Peyton. How are you doing today?” Dr. Schoenborn asked.
Peyton walked into the room, sat down in the chair across from the doctor, and answered his question.
“I’m fine, and you?” She looked at Dr. Schoenborn and tried to give him a smile that didn’t look as fake as it felt.
“I’m well. Thank you for asking.” He looked down into a file folder she assumed was hers and briefly read over the notes written in it. “So,” he said slowly, “last week we talked about you communicating with Derek’s parents again…” Peyton flinched at the sound of Derek’s name. “Did you by any chance do that?”
He looked up at her with big brown, curious eyes. They reminded her of the cows back at home that would follow her wherever she went, waiting with subtle anticipation. Peyton looked down to avoid eye contact to try and get the image of Dr. Schoenborn with a cow’s head out of her mind. He wasn’t the best-looking man and, at times, made her uncomfortable when he would look at her. She knew the moment she spoke, he would start writing down notes on his notepad as if his life depended on it.
“Actually, I did,” Peyton stated. Dr. Schoenborn's head shot up and looked at her in amazement.
“You did?” he gasped and leaned forward with eagerness. “How did it go? What did they say? How did you feel?” He clearly couldn’t stop the questions from spewing out his mouth.
“Uh…” She didn’t know where to begin and was overwhelmed with all the questions he had asked her.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to jump at you. I’m just very shocked. We’ve been talking about doing this for months, so why now? Answer me that first.” Dr. Schoenborn was practically on the edge of his seat now, waiting for my response.
“It just felt like the right time. I woke up and felt—different. I can’t explain it. I had been thinking a lot about Derek the day prior and wondered how his parents were doing. So, I thought I would give them a call.” Peyton didn’t know what answer the man was looking for or what he would get out of her answer, but she couldn’t explain it any better.
“Oh, Miss Peyton! At last, I think we are seeing progress!” he exclaimed.
Despite his comment being a bit brash, she couldn’t help but smile at the little party he was throwing himself, while scribbling away on his notepad.
The past few months hadn’t been easy, and no one expected them to be any easier after what she had been through. After the accident, she was assigned a therapist and was forced to go by her parents after weeks locked in her room, refusing to come out or do anything. Every week on Thursday, at eleven o’clock, her mom would drive her to her therapy session, drop her off to go run errands, and pick her up afterwards. The first few sessions, her mom would walk in with her and wait for the doctor to walk her back to his office. As the weeks went on, she began to trust Peyton a little more and would start dropping her off instead.
To begin with, Peyton had absolutely no desire to ever step foot into a therapist’s office. She thought she was just fine and could cope without it since only crazy people needed to go see a therapist. However, when she had to see a primary care doctor for routine check-ups following the accident, they were under the impression that she was depressed. The moment they mentioned a therapist, her parents agreed right away and set up an appointment. Naturally, she fought and argued about it and was adamant about not going, but when the doctor had mentioned antidepressants, she conceded.
“Well Peyton, I’m glad to hear you called them! How were they? Were they surprised by your call?” Dr. Schoenborn asked again.
“Yeah, I guess. They were definitely surprised, tears were shed,” she said and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, but we didn’t talk about the actual accident. We just asked how we were and what we were up to. It wasn’t a very long conversation. It honestly felt kinda awkward.” She made her sentences short and abrupt, hoping he wouldn’t ask any more questions because, honestly, the whole phone conversation with her late husband’s parents was awkward. They didn’t speak much and didn’t know what to say. They mostly spoke about the weather, asked how her parents were doing, and inquired whether or not she was still working at her old job. Unfortunately, she had to answer no to that one and told them that she had quit her job and was helping her dad out instead. After that they didn’t push for anymore answers, because they knew why she chose to quit.
“Good, good.” He nodded and began writing again. Thankfully he took the hint and didn’t ask any more questions on the subject. “How has your anxiety been?”
Shoot. She hoped he wouldn’t ask this one. She though
t about lying, but she had made a promise to her parents and the doctor that she would tell the truth to the best of her abilities and wouldn’t sugarcoat anything.
“It’s been okay. I have my panic attacks now and again. I think it's getting better…” she trailed off. She knew he wouldn’t buy it. It didn’t help that she had recurring nightmares of the accident and then woke up in full-blown panic attacks. Then her mother would rush in to hug her and wipe away the tears.
“You know, we can solve that problem and prescribe you something that can help with those,” he said with concern in his eyes.
“No,” she said abruptly. “No, I think it's getting better. Truly, I’m just fine.”
The doctor wrote on his notepad, looked up at her, and smiled. “Well, if you ever think it could help, please don’t hesitate to let me know, and I can help you. I want to congratulate you on finally reaching out to Derek’s”—Peyton flinched again—"parents…” He trailed off and jotted a note down. He had noticed Peyton flinching at the sound of Derek’s name again. “Now that we have completed that goal, I want to give you another one. It has to do with trust.”
Oh boy, Peyton thought to herself.
“I want you to find a friend. Whether it be an old one or a new one. I want you to find a buddy you can hang out with, go shopping with, go out to eat with, or just simply be able to lend an ear to someone. No one deserves to be alone, and Peyton, I know you have been alone.”
Peyton looked down and felt tears begin to well up in her eyes. She tried to hide it, but nothing got past the man. She looked up to see a tissue being held out to her. She smiled and nodded in gratitude, gently wiping her tears away.
“It’s okay to cry, Peyton. It’s okay for people to see it. You’ve been through a lot, and it's so hard to watch you struggle because you're so young. You have the whole world laid out at your feet. I just don’t want you to see it pass by and regret it someday. But you have done so well since you’ve started coming to see me! Don’t disregard all the growth and progress you’ve made over these last few months. You're doing quite well. So, Peyton, what’s the new goal?” The doctor looked at her and smiled encouragingly.
She exhaled and said, “To find a friend.” Now that she had said it, she began to get worried. Where was she going to find a friend? All her old friends were married and had moved away. She was spotty at going to church, and she didn’t go out very often. Her opportunities to find a friend were pretty limited, so she had a feeling she was going to be stuck with this goal for a while.
“Perfect! And on that note, we will end for today.” He stood up and waited for her to do the same. They shook hands, and he followed her out of his office.
Once they were in the reception area, he called out to the front desk, “Noah, care for a lunch break?”
Peyton looked toward the front desk and saw a man rise from behind it. He was tall, with dark brown hair and blue eyes that twinkled. He was obviously athletic and had laugh lines by his eyes that she noticed when he smiled.
“That sounds great, thank you,” he said and began to put on his jacket. He had a deep voice, and she noticed a bit of a twang in his speech. She didn’t realize she had been staring until he looked at her once his jacket was zipped and smiled. She smiled back and sped up her walking pace.
“Oh, Peyton,” Dr. Schoenborn called after her. She wasn’t fast enough. “Allow me to introduce my nephew. This is Noah. Noah, this is Peyton. He will be filling in for Nancy while she is on maternity leave.
Suddenly a million thoughts began to flood her mind. First of all, she didn’t even know the receptionist's name, let alone that Nancy was pregnant. She tried to keep to herself as much as possible. Obviously, Dr. Schoenborn wasn’t going to let that happen. Second, she was upset that he had even bothered to introduce her to Noah in the first place. She was already embarrassed enough coming here and didn’t want people to know. Third, Noah didn’t look anything like Dr. Schoenborn, who was a plump man in his late forties with blonde curly hair to match with his big brown cow eyes. He had absolutely no resemblance to Noah, and clearly, Noah was blessed with the looks.
In the midst of her thoughts, Noah had walked up to her and was holding out a hand without her realizing it. Once she noticed Noah in front of her extending his hand, she jumped and, without hesitation, grabbed his hand, unsure how long he had been standing there.
“Hi.” It was all she could spit out.
“Nice to meet you,” Noah said and smiled at her.
She could feel her cheeks flushing red and managed to say, “Nice to meet you too.” Peyton was looking at Noah, and he was looking at her in return real intently. It was as if they had all the time in the world to stand there, still shaking hands, look at each other, and memorize as much of each other as they could.
The sound of someone clearing their throat made Peyton jump, again, and she dropped Noah’s hand. “Well, Noah. Let’s get going. I have an appointment in an hour, and my tummy is wanting some Mexican food,” Dr. Schoenborn said while patting his stomach.
“Sounds good,” Noah replied, still looking at Peyton. “Peyton, I’ll see you around.”
“See you,” she said and half ran out the front doors to her mom waiting in the car.
Chapter 2
By the time Peyton got into the car, she was breathing heavy and caused the windows on her side of the car to fog up.
“Peyton?” her mother asked. “Peyton, are you alright? What happened?”
The only word that she could muster was, “Drive.”
“What?” her mom questioned.
“Drive! Drive, drive, drive! Hurry, before they come out!” she said a little clearer, and her mom pulled away from the curb and in the direction of home.
As her mom drove away, Peyton looked back and watched Noah and Dr. Schoenborn walk out of the office. She turned around to breathe a sigh of relief and closed her eyes.
“Excuse me.” Peyton’s eyes opened to see her mother looking back and forth between her and the road. “Why did I just do that? What just happened? Are you okay?” She'd successfully scared her mother.
“Yes, I’m fine.” She was hoping she could get away with not answering the other questions.
“Then why did I have to drive away so fast? I felt like we just got done robbing a bank, and the cops were coming after us!” her mom dramatized.
“Well, I didn’t want them to see us and have to make another awkward conversation,” Peyton admitted.
“Us? Who?” She wasn’t going to let it go.
“Dr. Schoenborn… and his nephew, Noah.”
She tried to look in her rearview mirror to see if she could see him, but they were too far down the road by now.
“Why didn’t you let me see him?” her mother asked with concern.
“Because I was a complete idiot in there, with my mouth practically hanging open and staring at the poor guy like I was crazy!” Peyton cried and put her head in her hands.
“Ah, so he must have been cute.” Her mom smiled.
Peyton whipped her head around to look at her mother. “Don’t go there,” she said coldly.
It was as if a cool breeze had just blown into the car.
Her mom took a deep breath as if to brace herself for what she was going to say next.
“Honey, it's been eight months. Don’t you think it would be alright if…”
“No,” she interrupted, “I don’t think it would be.”
“Okay. Okay. I guess so.” Her mom decided to change the subject for the moment. “I made roast and potatoes with brown gravy. You know, your favorite.” She tried to win her daughter back and get her talking again.
“Sounds good. Thanks, Mom,” Peyton said with a smile.
“How was Dr. Schoenborn today?”
“As weird as ever. He gave me a new goal today.”
“Oh yeah? That’s good. What is it?” her mom asked.
Peyton sighed, “To make a new friend.”
All her mom said
was, “Interesting.”
Peyton figured she was thinking more like it was a mere coincidence that she had met Noah but wasn’t going to dare say that. Peyton had absolutely no desire to even think about making a new friend, let alone dating or thinking about boys. That ship had sailed and ended up crashing and sinking to the bottom of the ocean.
The rest of the car ride was quiet, which Peyton appreciated. She enjoyed watching the trees become closer together as they drove farther away from the city. Pretty soon, it looked like they were driving through a forest, not seeing any houses nearby. Their driveway was hidden, and unless you were looking for it, it was easy to drive right by. It was a gravel road with many potholes, and it stretched about a mile. Every day, Peyton would wake up and run up and down the driveway, sometimes multiple times to get a good run in. She enjoyed running quite a bit and had even been on the cross-country team when she was in high school. After the accident, she spent lots of time walking and running up and down the driveway to cry and get away from the constant questions of, “Are you okay?” or “Do you need anything?”
Once they arrived at the house and climbed out of the car, she could smell the pot roast her mom had promised. Eager to be inside, she rushed in and headed straight for the kitchen. She had expected her dad to be in there but found someone else standing in there instead.
“Hey, Sis!” It was her younger brother, Chris.
“Hi, Chris”—she forced a smile—“How are you doing?”